Five Days More
by k2b
Summary: Five days in which Clark is particularly oblivious.


**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.  
**Notes**: Companion piece to Five Days. It's not necessary to read that one first, though.

Sorry this took longer than I thought. It needed a lot more work than I initially realised. I'm still not 100% happy with it (somewhere between 87%-92%, depending on the day) but it's about 500 x better than it was. Also once again, I haven't read the comic (Superman or Smallville s11) jsyk.

**/**

In Clark's defence it's a horrible week – and Lois, usually so vocal in what she's thinking and feeling – becomes almost eerily silent. He just assumes that it is because, despite sharing a job and a home, they just don't cross paths.

But what he really hopes is that there isn't a prize for most oblivious husband.

**/**

The previous day, Saturday, had seen a mission in which all members who were involved were injured, except Clark. Both Bart and Dinah are laid up in the infirmary with a protracted discussion about whether or not Bart actually needs hospitalising.

He crawls into bed next to the sleeping Lois sometime in the early hours of the morning. She rolls over, murmurs a greeting and curls into him. She always says she doesn't sleep well with him gone; while it's rarer for him to be in bed without her, he has to say he agrees.

The following morning he sleeps late and is surprised to find her still sound asleep when he wakes. She mutters as he slides out from underneath the covers, burying herself deeper until he can only see the top of her head. By the time he's showered and dressed, she is still sound asleep and it's after nine.

By the time Lois does wake, the apartment is clean – if not sparkling – and lunch is ready for his mother's arrival. He's about to go in and shake her awake when he hears the change in her breathing and heart rate quickly preparing her a cup of coffee. There's a flutter, a softer sound that he can't identify but he ignores it as being irrelevant and moves on.

"Smallville!" Her hair is rumpled, she's still in her pyjamas with a crease from her pillow on her cheek when she rushes into the main room. "Why'd you let me sleep so late? Your mom's arriving in fifteen minutes!"

He passed her the cup of coffee. "Mom's seen you in your pyjamas before."

"That's not the point! She's our guest. I need to be ready." Grimacing, she holds the cup almost at arm length making him wonder if he's forgotten something or if the milk is sour. But she doesn't comment so he lets it go. She's gone for a shower so fast he wonders if she's ended up with his powers again.

Later he finds the cup of coffee, untouched, sitting on the dresser.

**/**

She falls asleep midway through the afternoon on his shoulder while they sit in the living area talking with his mom. Gently, he stretches her out and covers her with the throw from the back of the couch, searching her face for any sign of stress.

"I'll take that as my cue," his mother said softly, lips twitching.

"She was asleep nearly twelve hours last night." He can't help but worry as he walks her to the door.

"You both work long hours, Clark. I'm sure this is just her body playing catch-up."

He kisses his mom on the cheek goodbye and then spends the next hour or so trying to focus on his latest story until Lois wakes. She's in better spirits, calmer, more settled, feigning anger over his dig at her cooking skills, eye's sparkling past the faint lines around them.

Later he stacks the dishwasher while she removes old leftovers from the fridge making angry noises for the length of time they've been left there. When he wraps his arms around her waist she jumps a little. "Sorry." He slides his hands further around, teasing her shirt higher and she leans backwards into him, allowing the fridge door to fall shut. "Let's go to bed."

**/**

The incident on Monday is odd. He's never known her to willingly skip out on work before – in fact she's been known to check herself out of hospital AMA if she thinks she's missing out on a story. He rushes home and finds her leaving the bathroom pale and drawn, not meeting his eyes.

He loves her but she is human and _human_ means _frail_ – even if she's one of the strongest people he's ever met. Standing in the living room a blotch of red on each cheek, she looks him in the eye and says she's ill. And he believes her – because Lois is many things but none of them is 'liar'.

**/**

Concern for Lois ostensibly keeps him in that night, until he hears the cry for help.

The two teens who set fire to the seemingly abandoned warehouse hadn't realised there were three homeless families living in the same building. Corners had been cut during construction and the building hadn't been in great shape while new and now, decades later, it's only been waiting to fall.

Even as fast as he is, he isn't in time to save a young mother and her six month old son, neither of whom should have been living on the streets in the first place. But for all poverty is falling there are still record numbers of homeless wandering the streets. Gently, he carries both bodies out and hands them over to emergency workers, apologies falling from his lips.

"Every life in this city is not your responsibility," the fire chief tells him.

He has no answer to give so he returns to the one place where he is safe. She is on the couch, sound asleep, tear tracks drying on her cheeks but whole, real, alive. He falls asleep with her in his arms, repeating those three words to himself over and over until they run together.

**/**

According to Lois, Emil has given her a clean bill of health. Clark tries to trust in that but can't quite help feeling sceptical when he's holding her hair out of the way so she can throw up.

**/**

On Wednesday he leaves the Planet for the mayor's office, not long after arriving, to see if he can shake any information loose for his latest story. Lois is still looking a little green but she's functioning and likely to bite his hand off if he suggests she's anything less than perfectly well. He tells himself that the illness has likely passed. He doesn't have a lot of experience with human ailments but these things only last a couple of days, right?

He returns to find Lois's desk empty but her screen on, notes prominently displayed. Knowing how furious she'll be if someone steals her story, he minimises her work and switches the screen off. Chloe wouldn't be impressed with his less than fool proof methods but at least it'll keep idle curiosity at bay.

"Hey," he says as Cat brushes past on her way to her desk. "Have you seen Lois?"

Cat's eyebrows rise and she studies him for several long seconds before shaking her head and turning away. "If you don't know, Clark, I'm not telling you."

"Try the bathroom," a second colleague, David Hanson, says from beside the coffee machine, sneer curling his lips, eyes sliding sideways. "You might want to be keeping a better eye on the wife, there, Kent."

Clark is not unaware of what most of the staff thinks of him, not with being able to hear them when they think there's no possible way he could, and he's learned not to care too much. But he will not let that one slide, not when it's about Lois' character. The bullpen is alive with activity and no one is paying either man much attention so he lets the act drop, shoulders a bit straighter, gaze dead on, tone even. "You might want to be careful about what you're implying."

Hanson wavers but Clark doesn't wait to see if he'll back down, simply turning away, letting his shoulders slump down a little again. The move isn't entirely an act, he is worried about Lois and her health, now he knows where to focus his hearing he can hear her retching again.

When he confronts her in that deserted stretch of corridor, she's nearly in tears and trying to hide it with anger. He just wants her to be okay, he just wants to help. But she's Lois, she'll tell him when she's good and ready, not a moment sooner. She's the same when she's working on a story, even when it's collaborative, she needs to time to puzzle through her thoughts before she's ready to share them and he just has to live with it. No matter how frustrating that might be.

**/**

He lies in bed later that night, unable to sleep, despite his growing exhaustion. Beside him Lois breathes easily and deep, her inner turmoil silent while she sleeps, belying the shadows present in the day under her eyes. Eventually he falls into a doze only to be woken by distant cries that can't be ignored.

He slides from between the sheets, torn between the need for sleep, the need to escape his thoughts and the desire to help. His cell phone tells him it's just after three am but he's going to be flying into daylight soon enough.

Lois rolls over and her eyes flicker open. "Clark?"

"I have to go."

And they drift closed again. She stretches out, unconsciously seeking the space he's just left. "… home soon… love you…"

**/**

Thursday morning and a quick make-out session in the shower seems to indicate he's been forgiven. He helps her wash her hair because he lives for the moments when the world is quiet enough for him to be with his wife – not that her being naked and in his arms hurts either.

**/**

She's been in danger a hundred times since he met her and will likely be in danger a hundred times more before their marriage hits the five year mark. But nothing prepares him to hear an explosion from dual sources, her phone and across the city. At least it doesn't take long for him to find her, stunned but physically fine – more worried about her source than any potential harm to herself.

The car is probably a write-off but they've totalled their fair share of vehicles and he can have it towed later. He only cares about getting his wife away from the place where someone attempted to assassinate her. 'Who' can wait until he's had time to investigate or she's had time to investigate. Or Chloe. In fact setting Chloe and Lois on whoever planted that explosive, knowing Lois would enter the building, sounds like a great idea.

As soon as her feet touch the floor of their apartment, though, Lois sprints to the bathroom and starts dry heaving, fingers curling at the sides of the bowl against the porcelain. "Gah," she says as she stumbles to the sink to rinse her mouth out. He should help her, he knows. She's unwell and has just survived an attempt on her life, he should be doing more than standing in the bathroom door watching her.

She glares at him in the mirror, eyes red and watery. "This is your fault, you know."

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" It's beyond ridiculous that she's still keeping this from him.

She brushes past him, heading for the main room. "Because there's nothing wrong with me."

"Lois..."

"I'm not sick, Clark." He opens his mouth to respond. "I'm pregnant."

**/**

**Nearly three years ago**

"_What about children?"_

_He's chopping vegetables in the kitchen of the Talon apartment having promised her dinner in celebration of their most recent by-line and subsequent defeat of the bad guys. The question comes out of the blue and is unexpected enough to make him pause for a heartbeat before turning back to her with the toast. She's not looking at him, instead down at her hands, twisting her engagement ring around._

"_What about them?" He checks the steak, and pours her a glass of wine. His hands aren't shaking but they feel like they should be._

_She audibly sucks in a breath. "Can we… can you…?"_

"_Yes, probably." He puts the glass down in front of her and it thumps hard enough to have him checking for cracks._

"_So, one day, a long, long time from now. When things aren't quite so… and we're both a little older and wiser we can…" She finally looks up him, eyes searching his face, cheeks flushed._

_In that moment, with her sitting there in the evening sun, dark smudges still fading under her eyes from the long hours they've worked, he wants that child, those children. He reaches out and takes her hand, looking for a way to express exactly what he's thinking and failing but managing a smile. "Yes."_

**/**

Now, faced with the reality of that child, he's not sure how to react. In the long seconds it takes for his brain to catch up with him all he can hear is the thrum that has surrounded Lois for days now but he is only just recognising – a second heartbeat.

If that isn't wilful ignorance he doesn't know what is.

Unsure if his legs are able to support him, Clark kneels before her. Eyes stinging he looks up. "Can I…?" He won't look with her permission but he really needs to see.

She reaches out a shaking hand, threading it through his hair. "Please."

And there, matching the heartbeat, already incredible but so tiny, is a baby. His baby. Their baby. A whole new life.

He looks up at her and she kneels down in front of him, reaching up to brush tears off his cheeks. "Everything okay?" Her voice is think and shaking but her eyes are drier than his own.

"She's incredible."

Lois' eyes widen and sucks in an audible breath. "She?"

But he shakes his head quickly. "He? I-I don't… I can't tell. I just…" But he doesn't finish the thought leaning in to kiss her.

**/**

"I was so scared," she tells him later. They're in bed, stretched out together, touching from forehead to ankle. Her hand is between them, resting on her stomach just above their child. "I didn't know how to tell you. This is going to change everything."

It already has – she can't possibly know how much of the city's bustle is drowned out by that soft fluttering. Long practise has taught him to focus on what he needs to hear but right now all of his senses are tuned on her. On them both.

"And now?"

"Oh, I'm still terrified." She wriggles backwards so there's a couple of inches of space between them and props herself up on her elbow. "And you still haven't said what you're feeling."

Mostly because, fluent in two languages, he can't find the words. Worried, anxious, curious, happy, overwhelmed. The only thing keeping him from melting down with trying to decide between panic and elation is the continued thrum.

Gently, he guides her on to her back, and props himself over her, not touching for long seconds. Then he tilts her head to one side, leaning in to place a kiss against her pulse point before moving down, between her breasts, lips millimetres from her skin, down until he's hovering above her womb. As lightly as possible he presses a kiss there.

"Clark?"

"I can hear her heartbeat." He looks up at Lois. She props herself up to look down at him, eyes wide. "How is that… I don't… She's…" He twists and flops down beside her. Them. This is hardly the first time he's been around a pregnant woman but this time is different and he never could have conceived how different until presented with this life.

"Whole sentences, Smallville."

"I love her." Above him there's a strangled gasp but he ignores it in favour of watching his fingers trace patterns on his wife's stomach. "She's alive and real and here and I love her." He does look up to find Lois scrubbing her face with the heel of one palm.

In a move he knows a human wouldn't be able to match the speed and fluidity of he stretches out, pulls her to him and rolls so he's the one on his back and she's draped across him. He catches fresh tears with his thumb, touches his nose to hers and lightly pecks her lips and waits.

She surprises him. She always surprises him. "It could be a boy. Why are you so convinced it's a girl?"

He shrugs. He's not, especially. "Ze?" he asks. "Ve?"

She leans in to kiss him. "I love you."

**/**

**NB:** So this is the last in this series but look out for other pieces in two separate AUs. If I don't panic and forget to post them, that is.


End file.
